Lady Ussi sat alone in her darkened room and contemplated the empty night. She had dismissed everyone when the news had arrived, brought by a wounded shadowblade. Her son, Ultlu, was dead. She lifted the carafe and poured the last dregs of wine into the goblet. The little black vial taunted her, promising swift release from her sorrows.
But something stopped her. Not regret for the war she had almost started at the demands of her Overlords, for how could she regret trying to take back some vestige of freedom, perhaps even reclaiming Cencin for her kind?
But she had not known the cost of such a war. Oh, she had thought about it, but she hadn't known it before this day. Her son lay dead, along with eighty of his shadowblades, and with them much of her desire to continue living.
Tears fell as she remembered her son.
The end-of-day songs echoed across the water from the small Elven fishing village. Something about them irritated her. The Elves lived openly, working hard and enjoying the fruits of their labors, while her kind hid in the forests. She eyed the black vial, contemplating its contents. Her death now would unleash her sons in earnest, setting off a campaign of atrocity and counter-atrocity that would only end when only one side remained. Would that be so bad? Win or lose, would it not bleed the Althiem Kingdom dry? Reduce them to living as she did? Make the mothers of the enemy weep as she had?
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She poured the contents of the black vial into the goblet.
The last song ended as she went to the window, goblet in hand. A curious expectant silence filled the empty night.
Then a new song began. heavy with emotion, a lone voice lifted in sorrow and remembrance. She couldn't understand the words, but she didn't have to. The aching longing carried clearly, swept along by waves of sadness. Something in her broke and tears flowed freely down her face.
When the song finally faded, she poured the tainted goblet out on the ground. War would only bring more sorrows, and she could stomach no more of them. But she couldn't end this by herself. There were too many pieces in motion, too many Pawns on the board, too many lines crossed. Not everyone would want peace with blood already shed. She would have to put her house in order, and then send the envoy.